Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Obsession ❯ Communication Barrier ( Chapter 7 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: HeartlessChild 
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Adventure | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 02.20.2005 | Updated On: 02.20.2005 | Pages: 9 | Words: 5.9K | Visits: 730 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Adventure | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 02.20.2005 | Updated On: 02.20.2005 | Pages: 9 | Words: 5.9K | Visits: 730 | Status: Completed
~*~
She had suspected it when the doctor took her father out of the room. But when they had entered again, it confirmed her suspicion;
Her entire world had come crashing down.
The broken world had left nothing but destitute traces of debris floating in her heart.
"What?" She croaked, looking at the gray-haired doctor. She didn't want to believe it... Refused to believe the truth.
"I'm sorry Ms. Briefs, but nothing short of physiotherapy can be done to heal you. You will start physio as soon as the upper part of your body is completely healed and you can be discharged at the end of the week to stay at your home where I understand you have a medical wing."
"But--I can't be paralyzed!" She choked out, ignoring his other comments.
"The ambulance report I have, claims that your legs had been affected upon impact, leading to damage in you neural passages. I'm sorry," his eyes held such pity for the young woman he had announced as paralyzed.
"Is there anything you can do?" Bulma whispered urgently, not caring if her friends were watching her crumble before the kind-hearted doctor.
The doctor shook his head, "Surgery is out of the questions. Our instruments are still not acute enough to tackle the neural system in a persons' body. I have looked at shock option, but I fear that the electrical impulses will be too much for the nerves in your legs to handle, and will simply remain stagnant."
Being a doctor, it was always the worst part of his job when he had to deliver such hopeless news. Seeing the desperate look on the woman's face, and mumbled an apology before shuffling out of the room.
They all remained in a stunned silence at the shocking news.
Bulma closed her eyes, still laying on her back in an encompassing neck brace. Her eyes slowly fluttered open as her mother's soft hand stroked her tangled, damp hair. Her lip quivered as she looked into her mother's eyes helplessly.
Mrs. Briefs almost lost her nerve and began to cry once more. She clenched her jaw and stared into her daughter's sky-blue eyes with such a sorrow that only a mother could fathom.
"My baby doll..." She whispered, her previous quirky attitude whilst she was recording Vegeta's message, dissolved at seeing her daughter so helpless.
Upon hearing her mother's soft whisper, Bulma broke down. Gut wrenching sobs came from her mouth and her upper torso shook from the painful emotions she was trying to suppress. "Oh God... Oh God!" She cried, her head nestled in her mother's arms. She stilled didn't have enough strength to sit up fully.
Yamcha had sat watching the entire scene quietly. He strode over to Bulma and sat on the edge of the bed, placing a loving hand on her forehead, "Senzu beans?" He whispered.
He refused to acknowledge that his former lover would be paralyzed for the rest of her life... His little firecracker. He choked back a sob as she shook her head and sniffled like a young girl.
"It won't work," Bulma muttered sadly.
"Why not?" Krillin demanded from the other side of the bed, still too afraid to come any close.
She sighed, gazing up sadly in to the charcoal eyes of her past lover, "Because, Korin has to harvest the beans, he doesn't have any more left." She lied.
"Well then he'll harvest them!" Krillin cried adamantly.
"Krillin," she said sadly, "The Senzu beans heal flesh wounds and broken bones... Not torn neural passageways. I'm sorry I never told you guys that, Korin told me not to. A Senzu has limited powers. It can't bring something back from the dead, and without my neural system working, my legs are likely to be considered dead." She bit her lip and wondered where her father was.
Krillin blanched and rubbed his chin as he thought, "Dragonballs?!" He cried out.
She cracked a smile.
Bulma had almost forgotten about the sacred balls. The last time they had used them was two months ago, so there was still a good ten months for them to fully regenerate.
"Of course!" Yamcha hooted, stroking back the bangs that covered her forehead. "Why didn't I think of that?" But his mirth was short lived as he concentration of thought deepened, "You still have to wait for ten months without walking... Do you think you can do that?"
She bit her lip in apprehension. Her lip curved into a tiny smile, "Sure!" Bulma felt a twinge of guilt to know that she was lying. How could she ever be ok with the lost ability of walking? But she considered herself lucky from the. "Until then, I guess I better get used to using a wheelchair right?" She joked to uplift the somber mood of the room.
Dr. Briefs cleared his throat, "Well, Bulma, if you don't want to wait that long, I am sure I could whip up something to help along the neural stimulation." He gave her a knowing glance.
Bulma painfully turned her head to face her father. He was standing awkwardly in the corner of the room, wringing his hands in his well-known anticipation. She nodded in understanding, showing her gratitude. "Thank you Daddy..." She saw him approach the bed and lean over, lightly kissing her forehead.
As he stood back, the painful look on his face was evident, yet she saw a glimmer of hope. Perhaps now that Blue Dwarf was out of the way, 'Ground Zero' and its compilation of functions would return to normal.
"In the mean time," Dr. Briefs continued, "You will attend to the physio they give you at our C.C compound, lets try and see if your legs heal without all that magic mum-bo-jum-bo. If it doesn't we'll used those confounded balls to heal your legs. Agreed?" He asked, directing it at everyone.
As the all nodded, Bulma stifled a chuckle, knowing he only used the word 'mum-bo-jum-bo' when incredibly stressed. But this pivotal point in her life was no laughing matter...
She stared desolately at the ceiling, wondering how it would feel for her to be in a wheelchair, having everyone look down upon her. She flared her nostrils, refusing to be subjected to an infantile state. She would not feel sorry for herself!
Taking a deep breath, Bulma spoke out. "You guys don't have to stay here any longer. I know you've been here the whole day watching over me, but I'll be fine."
"Are you sure dear?" Her mother questioned, gripping her hand.
Bulma nodded.
Her mother softly kissed her cheek and sighed sadly. "I'll be back in the morning... Maybe they'll allow you to have pastries!" She crowed delightfully, the sadness had all but gone upon knowing her daughter would be walking around in no time. She watched quietly as her mother moved from view and heard the shuffling of feet as her mother and father left the room.
"I guess it would be best if I go now to, huh Bulma?" Krillin asked bashfully.
She smiled up at the face that loomed over her. She saw the overhead hospital light blaze down upon his head, causing a halo effect. "It's not the end of the world Krill-chan," she said softly as he looked at her with hidden pity.
Krillin chuckled, "Of course not! The dragon will have you up and running in no time," but his voice was tight and choked with a heavy burden of sadness. "I'll let Goku know what's going on. I'm sure he and ChiChi wouldn't like to be kept in the dark about your condition." He lightly pinched her cheek, a gesture that the two had formed between themselves to show their binding and ever-lasting friendship.
"Take care." Krillin whispered, before fleeing from the room.
It was now only herself and Yamcha in the room.
Bulma closed her eyes as his strong hand stroked her forehead in a soothing gesture.
"You don't have to try that tough-chick attitude with me Bulma Briefs," he whispered sternly. "I've known you far too long to be fooled by your true feelings."
And with that, Bulma let out a single sob. "I'm so scared Yamcha..." She whispered back, feeling him hold her tiny hand between his two giant paws as he leaned against the bed.
"You'll be ok," his voice grew choked with emotion. "You won't stay this way for long. I promise."
She smiled sadly, "I wish I could believe in your promise, but we both know that you're promises are never built upon a solid foundation."
A wounded look flashed across his face, which she couldn't see but knew it was there.
"Hey," she chastised, "You better go home and get some beauty sleep Yamcha."
He chuckled and pecked her cheek, "I'm not going anywhere, super bitch." He held her hand, once again resuming the stroking motions upon her forehead. "I'm going to stay beside you until you get out of the hospital."
She wanted to laugh at his stubborn nature, "Scar-face," she teased with his nickname, "I think you'll get a bit too stinky if you stay in the hospital for an entire week."
He laughed then. "Still haven't lost your humor I see?" He commented thoughtfully.
"I could never lose it around you," she remarked snidely.
"Ha-Ha-Ha." He huffed out sarcastically.
She winced in pain as she tried to shift again in the bed. The effects of medicine were causing her surroundings to grow hazy and dreamlike.
"Babe?" She heard Yamcha's concerned voice call out to her from the distance.
"I'm ok," Bulma murmured.
Everything slowly faded and she didn't fight the seduction of sleep as it wrapped its warm arms around her consciousness.
~*~
A week had passed by in a blur of visits, rehabilitation and laughter amongst close friends at the private hospital.
Amidst the laughter was a pang of sadness from the young and brilliant woman's condition. Her paralysis stopped her from enjoying the full extent of her friends' company and she felt saddened by their banter, yet uplifted that they treated her the same as before.
She had been given a wheelchair in that week and taught to use it to it's full extent. The hoverchairs that C.C manufactured for disabled people were still in testing, and so Bulma had to settle for the normal wheelchairs.
She had felt so helpless the first time she had used the wheelchair, but as the week passed on she grew accustomed
Her physio did not seem to be working and Bulma had all but given hope. Thoughts of Vegeta plagued her mind. Had he known about her accident and if so, why hadn't he come to visit her?
She was sure her mother would have told him about her condition, so why had he not turned up once in that past month? She had not dared to utter a single word of Vegeta to her parents or friends, and so remained silent, unaware of the self-torture the Saiyan Prince was inflicting upon himself.
Bulma would have not felt so disheartened from his absence if it wasn't for the fact that she was still confined in the hospital.
~*~
Bulma sat in her room, sitting in her wheelchair as she gazed out at the luscious vegetation and flowers of the private hospital's garden
"BULMA!"
She wheeled the chair around to the entrance of the room.
As the vibrant blue-haired scientist looked up from the confinements of her wheelchair, a bright smile grew on her face as she was presented with a man's strong body and bouquet of outrageous flowers that were covering his face, acting as a head.
"Yamcha," she chuckled, remaining still and watching as her former lover slowly walked up to her in the wheelchair at the center of the room.
"For you, Mademoiselle." Yamcha jeered in a sleazy French accent as he placed the flowers in her lap.
She laughed in delight, "What're these for?"
"Just to a present to say, 'Let's get out of this hell hole!' and because I thought they'd cheer you up." He added lightly.
She stared at the blue tulips amidst the concoction of flowers and smiled sadly. She had forgotten that today was the day she was finally allowed to return to Capsule Corporation. Her home. Her mind lingered in thoughts of the Saiyan Prince as she wondered if she would have to confront him in her current condition... She secretly hoped not.
"They're beautiful," she murmured wistfully, the bright colors making her feel slightly dizzy.
Bulma looked up in confusion, "Where are my parents?" Surely they would have been there to take her home.
"Yeah, they sent a message with me to say they're sorry they couldn't come and pick you up. You're father's supposedly busy with a scientific breakthrough and your mother is tending to her flowers for the annual flower show." He said cheerfully.
Bulma's face fell minutely. "Oh." Was the only word that escaped from her crimson lips.
Yamcha looked around the room, "I've asked one of the employees at C.C to come and collect your stuff, he'll be by later." She quietly watched him walk around and grip the handles of her wheelchair, pushing her out of the room towards the parking lot.
Bulma seethed quietly. She was not a fucking charity case! Why was everyone treating her like and infant?!
However, she remained silent.
~*~
Night had fallen.
Stars twinkled above, the pale moonlight shining down upon the thick geen leaves of an inhabited jungle. Creatures of the night chirped, whistled and howled and the distance.
Vegeta growled as he quietly approached the peaceful mammal by the lake, shadowed by the growing vegetation on the ground.
He had been in this jungle for an entire week, only returning to C.C for a change of clothes and a decent meal. Other than that, he had not dared to stay for any long periods of time.
In that week, he had not sensed an ounce of the woman's ki emanating from her room or anywhere in the mansion, and on all accounts he had been relieved. He was certain if he had another confrontation with her, he would surely explode in a ball of fury and rage.
His booted feet silently landed on the ground with each step, making sure he didn't alert the mammalian predator of his presence.
He had been holding his sanity on a think rope for the past week, and only the slightest twinge was needed for it to break. The seclusion of the jungle had only added to his solitary confinement and every time his thoughts lingered towards Bulma, he would be filled with the burning rage to snap her in two.
At first, he had held himself responsible for her accident. Then as each day passed, he managed to assemble a part of his old self again. She held no superiority in him any longer.
He couldn't give a fuck what happened to the little wailing banshee, for she deserved every ounce of pain! From hearing the woman's mother chattering away, it seemed as though the woman was healing.
But after all he had suffered, he wasn't going to allow her to insult his pride and dignity without a little backlash. And so, each time he made his way towards C.C, he was prepared for the confrontation but never wanted to partake in it.
But on all accounts when he was there, she was no where to be seen.
This irked him, yet he knew he would surely explode if he had to listen to her whiny voice grate out another damned insult!
Lost in his thoughts, his foot snapped a lingering twig on the soiled ground.
He came to his senses and looked up in annoyance as his prey stood and shuffled through the foliage of the jungle.
A thousand curses spewed from Vegeta's mouth and he stood ram rod straight from his crouched position. His stomach growled and he almost winced in embarrassment.
A prince who could not even control his hunger? It truly was pathetic and degrading, for he wasn't a bumbling third-class buffoon like Kakarott.
Clenching his fist, he sprang into the air and flew towards the C.C mansion, food taking main priority in his thoughts.
~*~
Bulma hummed lightly as she wheeled over to the large fridge in the corner of the kitchen. It was now evening, and her mother was now in her green house, asserting her plant's conditions for the flower show. Her father was holed away in 'Ground Zero' having restarted production and the facilities.
Yamcha had stayed with her for the entire day, tending to her like a wounded lamb. She had finally managed to shoo him away, finally earning the peace she had yearned for in the past week. She had been surrounded by so many people, she didn't get to spend a single moment alone and it had been the one thing she craved for.
Everything was back on track.
But something was missing.
She wasn't quite sure what exactly was nagging her, but she had inkling it had something to do with the Saiyan Prince.
True to her mother's words, he hadn't been present at C.C for the past week and had apparently only shown himself for food and a change of clothes, perhaps a shower.
She smirked, the Saiyan Prince seemed to enjoy the luxuries he had and seemed adamant in keeping it that way.
A cold draught caused her to shiver and she wondered what had possessed her to change into a strappy pink tank top and cropped shorts. She reached out and gripped the handle of the enormous fridge, wheeling back so that she could pull it open. A grunt came out of her mouth as she struggled to pull open the door.
She hated feeling helpless and refused to call her mother or one of the many servants for help. Besides, they were all busy doing their own odd jobs and she didn't want to burden anyone.
With another mighty tug, she pulled the tall fridge door open and gazed inside with her stomach growling.
She craned her neck to look up at the top shelf.
Everything seemed to be absolutely enormous when she was seated in her wheelchair. It made her feel all the more insignificant and infantile.
Snarling in annoyance, her appetite fled from her and depression slowly replaced the anger she felt.
She whirled the chair around and found herself almost banging into a blue- spandex covered crotch. She gasped and looked up, wheeling her chair back in surprise.
"Ve--Vegeta." She breathed.
He narrowed his cold eyes upon her in the chair, although the confusion on his face was evident. Only someone as intuitive as Bulma would have caught the look of confusion upon his face.
Her face burned in embarrassment as she recalled their intimate session in the lighthouse. It had been a drunken blur of lust and passion to Bulma, for she could not remember exactly how he felt against her... The thoughts trailed off as she looked up in his fierce and scowling face.
"Surprised?" He hissed cruelly, staring down at her as though she were something he scraped from the bottom of his boot. "What, didn't think I'd return after our little fuck in the lighthouse? Poor little woman, did you honestly think I was going to let your carcass off the hook?"
He continued speaking, noticing the look of utter pain on Bulma's face and mistaking it for regret for ever letting him touch her. "My, my, is the little whore upset? Well, I'm sure I could dispel that if you allowed me the use of your hideous body one more time? Oh but wait, I'm sure you could just go whoring off to your weakling mate." Sarcasm dripped from every single syllable in his words. His voice held back the pain of rejection she had placed upon him and he turned every word into a poisonous backlash.
Bulma pursed her lips and a new fountain of tears surged within her. "Stop." She whispered.
"Don't like the truth?" He asked in mock surprise. "Well, I certainly had a field day using your body. It is a shame that I didn't find you quite satisfying." Each new lie he wove, caused the wound in his heart to deepen.
He crouched down to the odd contraption she was seated in and painfully gripped her jaw. He didn't know what the hell she was seated in and personally didn't give a fuck. It was probably one of her inane inventions she had conjured out boredom.
As he grabbed her jaw, he forced her to look at him. "I have a low tolerance for sniveling bitches such as yourself. If you think you can get rid of me with your pathetic barbs then you, my little whore, are sorely mistaken."
He stood up but bent to whisper into her ear, "I'm your worst nightmare and I will make sure you pay for your pathetic tantrum in the lighthouse. No one insults the Saiyan Prince and gets away with it." He roughly pushed her cheek away, letting go. He watched her head snap to the side as though she had been slapped.
Bulma allowed one single tear to trickle down her cheek.
How could she have ever thought this monster of a man would have seen her more than a bed warmer?! Just because she had refused to be his sex toy, he was now lashing out at her?! She tried to muster up anger, but all she could fathom was hurt and pain unlike any other. He hadn't even asked her of her condition after the accident... He was not being very perceptive, she thought wryly.
Vegeta sneered as he saw the tear roll down her cheeks. "Here come the water-works!" He growled in sadistic amusement, "Damn woman, with the amount of crying you do, your tears could fill up an entire lake!" He laughed cruelly at his own joke. He seemed cold on the outside, but his feelings were completely opposite on the inside.
Her face still held the cuts and bruises from her accident and he secretly wanted to ask how she felt, but he refused to admit the odd and caring feelings that were occurring in his soul and channeled them into an unbridled rage.
"Bulma dear!" Her mother's voice sang out.
Bulma sighed in relief. At least she wouldn't have to answer to the Prince's snide and hurtful comments. She looked around to see that Vegeta had retreated to corner of the kitchen.
She wiped away the trail of tears from her cheek and swiveled her wheelchair to face her mother, who was standing prominently in the doorway that led to her prized garden. Her mother looked seemingly comfortable in her blue overalls and straw hat.
"Oh Vegeta dear!" Mrs. Briefs cried upon seeing the prince standing in the corner of the dimly lit kitchen. "Are you both hungry? I could whip you up a quick dinner?" She crooned, directing the question hto both Bulma and Vegeta.
Bulma smiled falsely, "No thanks Momma," she said tightly. "I'm not very hungry right now." Without further talk, she wheeled herself out of the room as quickly as her chair would allow. Away from Vegeta.
Mrs. Briefs sadly watched her daughter wheel herself out of the kitchen. Trying to brighten her spirits, she turned to the sour looking man in the corner. "Come on dear, don't tell me you're not hungry as well?! If I know you, I'd say you're famished!" She motioned him to take a seat at the breakfast table.
Vegeta grunted, sneering but obliged as he sat quietly at the table. He had always been discomforted by the blonde woman's presence, but he as long as his hunger was fulfilled then it really didn't matter. He had no intention of conversing with the twit anyway.
Mrs. Briefs began bustling around the kitchen, she moved to the fridge and retrieved a pitcher of juice. She carefully placed it on the breakfast table in front of the thoughtful. She caught the worried expression on his face and misunderstood it.
"Don't worry dear," she commented as she gently patted his shoulder. The confusion on his face was lost upon her as she went to retrieve a large glass to pour the juice in.
"What should I be worried about?" He demanded, sneering at the bubbly woman as she returned with a tall glass in her hand.
"About Bulma's paralysis." She said, appearing unconcerned. "I'm sure she'll be fine."
"Paralysis... What is this paralysis?"
"You mean you don't know?" The blonde-haired woman gaped at the scowling man. She slowly placed the glass on the table, "Surely you noticed her in that chair?" She murmured, apparently confused as to how the man could not have noticed.
"Of course I did," he snapped waspishly. "What does the chair have to do with a paralysis?" He frowned, not wanting to indulge in a conversation with the perky woman, but curiosity was getting the better of him.
Mrs. Briefs' face fell into a blank state as she stared at the ignorant Saiyan. "Dear, that chair is her only means of getting around."
Now he was even more confused. "Why?" He was still deaf to what the woman was soliciting.
"Because..." She continued sadly, "Bulma has lost the use of her legs. The accident has left her unable to walk."
Vegeta froze.
A pounding in his head grew to such great proportions, that he suddenly felt claustrophobic in the large kitchen with the babbling woman. The woman... His woman, was unable to walk?! He wondered why she hadn't told him. He snorted bitterly as he remembered that he hadn't given her a chance to talk.
Between his insults and barbs, he had noticed her in the wheeled chair but never thought twice about it, dismissing it as one of her strange inventions. The full weight of truth was placed upon him and he clenched his jaw in anger... Most of which was directed towards himself for his lack of awareness.
He had simply added insult to injury... Exactly what she had done in the lighthouse. But he truly wondered if she had deserved his backlash. He wasn't so sure at present, but knew that he couldn't feel sorry for her.
Such a strong willed woman as herself would never want pity... So why did he feel the sudden urge to dash after her and demand an explanation, as always.
A heavy sigh left Mrs. Briefs' mouth and she slumped to the table. "I know you kids think I'm a doddering old woman in my fifties lusting after handsome playboys," she paused to giggle, "But if it's one thing I do know, it's how my daughter is feeling. I can see it in her eyes..."
Mrs. Briefs shook her head sadly, "The poor dear feels trapped. She feels like she's being a burden to everyone and trying avoid meeting up with anyone and everyone, just so that she can hide her true feelings."
He frowned, but remained silent.
"My poor baby doll feels helpless in that damned chair!" She spoke vehemently. Her voice dwindled to a mere whisper, "But there's nothing I can do to help here. She confined to that chair and there's nothing I can do to help her..." She trailed off, lost in her thoughts.
Her mind snapped to attention as the phone began to ring. Her vivacious demeanor returned and she flashed Vegeta a bright smile, that was bordering into insanity. "I'll just get that. Dinner will be done in a moment, ok?" She stood and tottered towards the phone.
Vegeta scowled in disgust at the woman.
Shaking his head, he stood abruptly and began to search for Bulma's ki signature. To his astonishment, he found her amidst Mrs. Briefs' jungle of flowers in the garden. Her ki had been severed in half from what minuscule ki it had been before.
His lips curled in thought as he realized her ki had been cut in half because a part of her had withered away and died... Her legs.
He growled, refusing to feel sorry for her.
Without a second thought, he purposely exited the kitchen, heading towards the garden and Bulma's severed ki. His anger had grown to a new height, but he didn't know why he was truly so angered.
Perhaps it was because he felt as though the blue-haired woman in the garden held too much power over him. Everything she did drove him crazy with desire, but her mere volatile attitude contributed to his burning anger.
He was disgusted with the sick feelings that blazed within him every time she was near by. He thought that he would have been able to squash his desire for her by his anger and it had been working... Until he had set eyes upon her in the kitchen in her wheelchair.
And now she was completely paralyzed! She had lost the use of her legs because of the accident that may well have happened because of HIM!
It was all his fault, and yet he refused to take the blame.
Standing in the back garden, his nose picked up the heavy scented fragrance of the vile flowers Bulma's mother had planted. He had almost gagged on the stench, but remained stony faced as he searched out her ki in the twist and turns of the garden.
It was practically like a maze! He wondered how Bulma's idiotic mother had never become lost in the maze-like jungle of flowers.
Clenching his fists, his jaw tightened and lips pulled in a ferocious scowl, he entered the maze like-garden all the while following the woman's severed ki.
It was time to rid himself of his obsession.
~*~
She had suspected it when the doctor took her father out of the room. But when they had entered again, it confirmed her suspicion;
Her entire world had come crashing down.
The broken world had left nothing but destitute traces of debris floating in her heart.
"What?" She croaked, looking at the gray-haired doctor. She didn't want to believe it... Refused to believe the truth.
"I'm sorry Ms. Briefs, but nothing short of physiotherapy can be done to heal you. You will start physio as soon as the upper part of your body is completely healed and you can be discharged at the end of the week to stay at your home where I understand you have a medical wing."
"But--I can't be paralyzed!" She choked out, ignoring his other comments.
"The ambulance report I have, claims that your legs had been affected upon impact, leading to damage in you neural passages. I'm sorry," his eyes held such pity for the young woman he had announced as paralyzed.
"Is there anything you can do?" Bulma whispered urgently, not caring if her friends were watching her crumble before the kind-hearted doctor.
The doctor shook his head, "Surgery is out of the questions. Our instruments are still not acute enough to tackle the neural system in a persons' body. I have looked at shock option, but I fear that the electrical impulses will be too much for the nerves in your legs to handle, and will simply remain stagnant."
Being a doctor, it was always the worst part of his job when he had to deliver such hopeless news. Seeing the desperate look on the woman's face, and mumbled an apology before shuffling out of the room.
They all remained in a stunned silence at the shocking news.
Bulma closed her eyes, still laying on her back in an encompassing neck brace. Her eyes slowly fluttered open as her mother's soft hand stroked her tangled, damp hair. Her lip quivered as she looked into her mother's eyes helplessly.
Mrs. Briefs almost lost her nerve and began to cry once more. She clenched her jaw and stared into her daughter's sky-blue eyes with such a sorrow that only a mother could fathom.
"My baby doll..." She whispered, her previous quirky attitude whilst she was recording Vegeta's message, dissolved at seeing her daughter so helpless.
Upon hearing her mother's soft whisper, Bulma broke down. Gut wrenching sobs came from her mouth and her upper torso shook from the painful emotions she was trying to suppress. "Oh God... Oh God!" She cried, her head nestled in her mother's arms. She stilled didn't have enough strength to sit up fully.
Yamcha had sat watching the entire scene quietly. He strode over to Bulma and sat on the edge of the bed, placing a loving hand on her forehead, "Senzu beans?" He whispered.
He refused to acknowledge that his former lover would be paralyzed for the rest of her life... His little firecracker. He choked back a sob as she shook her head and sniffled like a young girl.
"It won't work," Bulma muttered sadly.
"Why not?" Krillin demanded from the other side of the bed, still too afraid to come any close.
She sighed, gazing up sadly in to the charcoal eyes of her past lover, "Because, Korin has to harvest the beans, he doesn't have any more left." She lied.
"Well then he'll harvest them!" Krillin cried adamantly.
"Krillin," she said sadly, "The Senzu beans heal flesh wounds and broken bones... Not torn neural passageways. I'm sorry I never told you guys that, Korin told me not to. A Senzu has limited powers. It can't bring something back from the dead, and without my neural system working, my legs are likely to be considered dead." She bit her lip and wondered where her father was.
Krillin blanched and rubbed his chin as he thought, "Dragonballs?!" He cried out.
She cracked a smile.
Bulma had almost forgotten about the sacred balls. The last time they had used them was two months ago, so there was still a good ten months for them to fully regenerate.
"Of course!" Yamcha hooted, stroking back the bangs that covered her forehead. "Why didn't I think of that?" But his mirth was short lived as he concentration of thought deepened, "You still have to wait for ten months without walking... Do you think you can do that?"
She bit her lip in apprehension. Her lip curved into a tiny smile, "Sure!" Bulma felt a twinge of guilt to know that she was lying. How could she ever be ok with the lost ability of walking? But she considered herself lucky from the. "Until then, I guess I better get used to using a wheelchair right?" She joked to uplift the somber mood of the room.
Dr. Briefs cleared his throat, "Well, Bulma, if you don't want to wait that long, I am sure I could whip up something to help along the neural stimulation." He gave her a knowing glance.
Bulma painfully turned her head to face her father. He was standing awkwardly in the corner of the room, wringing his hands in his well-known anticipation. She nodded in understanding, showing her gratitude. "Thank you Daddy..." She saw him approach the bed and lean over, lightly kissing her forehead.
As he stood back, the painful look on his face was evident, yet she saw a glimmer of hope. Perhaps now that Blue Dwarf was out of the way, 'Ground Zero' and its compilation of functions would return to normal.
"In the mean time," Dr. Briefs continued, "You will attend to the physio they give you at our C.C compound, lets try and see if your legs heal without all that magic mum-bo-jum-bo. If it doesn't we'll used those confounded balls to heal your legs. Agreed?" He asked, directing it at everyone.
As the all nodded, Bulma stifled a chuckle, knowing he only used the word 'mum-bo-jum-bo' when incredibly stressed. But this pivotal point in her life was no laughing matter...
She stared desolately at the ceiling, wondering how it would feel for her to be in a wheelchair, having everyone look down upon her. She flared her nostrils, refusing to be subjected to an infantile state. She would not feel sorry for herself!
Taking a deep breath, Bulma spoke out. "You guys don't have to stay here any longer. I know you've been here the whole day watching over me, but I'll be fine."
"Are you sure dear?" Her mother questioned, gripping her hand.
Bulma nodded.
Her mother softly kissed her cheek and sighed sadly. "I'll be back in the morning... Maybe they'll allow you to have pastries!" She crowed delightfully, the sadness had all but gone upon knowing her daughter would be walking around in no time. She watched quietly as her mother moved from view and heard the shuffling of feet as her mother and father left the room.
"I guess it would be best if I go now to, huh Bulma?" Krillin asked bashfully.
She smiled up at the face that loomed over her. She saw the overhead hospital light blaze down upon his head, causing a halo effect. "It's not the end of the world Krill-chan," she said softly as he looked at her with hidden pity.
Krillin chuckled, "Of course not! The dragon will have you up and running in no time," but his voice was tight and choked with a heavy burden of sadness. "I'll let Goku know what's going on. I'm sure he and ChiChi wouldn't like to be kept in the dark about your condition." He lightly pinched her cheek, a gesture that the two had formed between themselves to show their binding and ever-lasting friendship.
"Take care." Krillin whispered, before fleeing from the room.
It was now only herself and Yamcha in the room.
Bulma closed her eyes as his strong hand stroked her forehead in a soothing gesture.
"You don't have to try that tough-chick attitude with me Bulma Briefs," he whispered sternly. "I've known you far too long to be fooled by your true feelings."
And with that, Bulma let out a single sob. "I'm so scared Yamcha..." She whispered back, feeling him hold her tiny hand between his two giant paws as he leaned against the bed.
"You'll be ok," his voice grew choked with emotion. "You won't stay this way for long. I promise."
She smiled sadly, "I wish I could believe in your promise, but we both know that you're promises are never built upon a solid foundation."
A wounded look flashed across his face, which she couldn't see but knew it was there.
"Hey," she chastised, "You better go home and get some beauty sleep Yamcha."
He chuckled and pecked her cheek, "I'm not going anywhere, super bitch." He held her hand, once again resuming the stroking motions upon her forehead. "I'm going to stay beside you until you get out of the hospital."
She wanted to laugh at his stubborn nature, "Scar-face," she teased with his nickname, "I think you'll get a bit too stinky if you stay in the hospital for an entire week."
He laughed then. "Still haven't lost your humor I see?" He commented thoughtfully.
"I could never lose it around you," she remarked snidely.
"Ha-Ha-Ha." He huffed out sarcastically.
She winced in pain as she tried to shift again in the bed. The effects of medicine were causing her surroundings to grow hazy and dreamlike.
"Babe?" She heard Yamcha's concerned voice call out to her from the distance.
"I'm ok," Bulma murmured.
Everything slowly faded and she didn't fight the seduction of sleep as it wrapped its warm arms around her consciousness.
~*~
A week had passed by in a blur of visits, rehabilitation and laughter amongst close friends at the private hospital.
Amidst the laughter was a pang of sadness from the young and brilliant woman's condition. Her paralysis stopped her from enjoying the full extent of her friends' company and she felt saddened by their banter, yet uplifted that they treated her the same as before.
She had been given a wheelchair in that week and taught to use it to it's full extent. The hoverchairs that C.C manufactured for disabled people were still in testing, and so Bulma had to settle for the normal wheelchairs.
She had felt so helpless the first time she had used the wheelchair, but as the week passed on she grew accustomed
Her physio did not seem to be working and Bulma had all but given hope. Thoughts of Vegeta plagued her mind. Had he known about her accident and if so, why hadn't he come to visit her?
She was sure her mother would have told him about her condition, so why had he not turned up once in that past month? She had not dared to utter a single word of Vegeta to her parents or friends, and so remained silent, unaware of the self-torture the Saiyan Prince was inflicting upon himself.
Bulma would have not felt so disheartened from his absence if it wasn't for the fact that she was still confined in the hospital.
~*~
Bulma sat in her room, sitting in her wheelchair as she gazed out at the luscious vegetation and flowers of the private hospital's garden
"BULMA!"
She wheeled the chair around to the entrance of the room.
As the vibrant blue-haired scientist looked up from the confinements of her wheelchair, a bright smile grew on her face as she was presented with a man's strong body and bouquet of outrageous flowers that were covering his face, acting as a head.
"Yamcha," she chuckled, remaining still and watching as her former lover slowly walked up to her in the wheelchair at the center of the room.
"For you, Mademoiselle." Yamcha jeered in a sleazy French accent as he placed the flowers in her lap.
She laughed in delight, "What're these for?"
"Just to a present to say, 'Let's get out of this hell hole!' and because I thought they'd cheer you up." He added lightly.
She stared at the blue tulips amidst the concoction of flowers and smiled sadly. She had forgotten that today was the day she was finally allowed to return to Capsule Corporation. Her home. Her mind lingered in thoughts of the Saiyan Prince as she wondered if she would have to confront him in her current condition... She secretly hoped not.
"They're beautiful," she murmured wistfully, the bright colors making her feel slightly dizzy.
Bulma looked up in confusion, "Where are my parents?" Surely they would have been there to take her home.
"Yeah, they sent a message with me to say they're sorry they couldn't come and pick you up. You're father's supposedly busy with a scientific breakthrough and your mother is tending to her flowers for the annual flower show." He said cheerfully.
Bulma's face fell minutely. "Oh." Was the only word that escaped from her crimson lips.
Yamcha looked around the room, "I've asked one of the employees at C.C to come and collect your stuff, he'll be by later." She quietly watched him walk around and grip the handles of her wheelchair, pushing her out of the room towards the parking lot.
Bulma seethed quietly. She was not a fucking charity case! Why was everyone treating her like and infant?!
However, she remained silent.
~*~
Night had fallen.
Stars twinkled above, the pale moonlight shining down upon the thick geen leaves of an inhabited jungle. Creatures of the night chirped, whistled and howled and the distance.
Vegeta growled as he quietly approached the peaceful mammal by the lake, shadowed by the growing vegetation on the ground.
He had been in this jungle for an entire week, only returning to C.C for a change of clothes and a decent meal. Other than that, he had not dared to stay for any long periods of time.
In that week, he had not sensed an ounce of the woman's ki emanating from her room or anywhere in the mansion, and on all accounts he had been relieved. He was certain if he had another confrontation with her, he would surely explode in a ball of fury and rage.
His booted feet silently landed on the ground with each step, making sure he didn't alert the mammalian predator of his presence.
He had been holding his sanity on a think rope for the past week, and only the slightest twinge was needed for it to break. The seclusion of the jungle had only added to his solitary confinement and every time his thoughts lingered towards Bulma, he would be filled with the burning rage to snap her in two.
At first, he had held himself responsible for her accident. Then as each day passed, he managed to assemble a part of his old self again. She held no superiority in him any longer.
He couldn't give a fuck what happened to the little wailing banshee, for she deserved every ounce of pain! From hearing the woman's mother chattering away, it seemed as though the woman was healing.
But after all he had suffered, he wasn't going to allow her to insult his pride and dignity without a little backlash. And so, each time he made his way towards C.C, he was prepared for the confrontation but never wanted to partake in it.
But on all accounts when he was there, she was no where to be seen.
This irked him, yet he knew he would surely explode if he had to listen to her whiny voice grate out another damned insult!
Lost in his thoughts, his foot snapped a lingering twig on the soiled ground.
He came to his senses and looked up in annoyance as his prey stood and shuffled through the foliage of the jungle.
A thousand curses spewed from Vegeta's mouth and he stood ram rod straight from his crouched position. His stomach growled and he almost winced in embarrassment.
A prince who could not even control his hunger? It truly was pathetic and degrading, for he wasn't a bumbling third-class buffoon like Kakarott.
Clenching his fist, he sprang into the air and flew towards the C.C mansion, food taking main priority in his thoughts.
~*~
Bulma hummed lightly as she wheeled over to the large fridge in the corner of the kitchen. It was now evening, and her mother was now in her green house, asserting her plant's conditions for the flower show. Her father was holed away in 'Ground Zero' having restarted production and the facilities.
Yamcha had stayed with her for the entire day, tending to her like a wounded lamb. She had finally managed to shoo him away, finally earning the peace she had yearned for in the past week. She had been surrounded by so many people, she didn't get to spend a single moment alone and it had been the one thing she craved for.
Everything was back on track.
But something was missing.
She wasn't quite sure what exactly was nagging her, but she had inkling it had something to do with the Saiyan Prince.
True to her mother's words, he hadn't been present at C.C for the past week and had apparently only shown himself for food and a change of clothes, perhaps a shower.
She smirked, the Saiyan Prince seemed to enjoy the luxuries he had and seemed adamant in keeping it that way.
A cold draught caused her to shiver and she wondered what had possessed her to change into a strappy pink tank top and cropped shorts. She reached out and gripped the handle of the enormous fridge, wheeling back so that she could pull it open. A grunt came out of her mouth as she struggled to pull open the door.
She hated feeling helpless and refused to call her mother or one of the many servants for help. Besides, they were all busy doing their own odd jobs and she didn't want to burden anyone.
With another mighty tug, she pulled the tall fridge door open and gazed inside with her stomach growling.
She craned her neck to look up at the top shelf.
Everything seemed to be absolutely enormous when she was seated in her wheelchair. It made her feel all the more insignificant and infantile.
Snarling in annoyance, her appetite fled from her and depression slowly replaced the anger she felt.
She whirled the chair around and found herself almost banging into a blue- spandex covered crotch. She gasped and looked up, wheeling her chair back in surprise.
"Ve--Vegeta." She breathed.
He narrowed his cold eyes upon her in the chair, although the confusion on his face was evident. Only someone as intuitive as Bulma would have caught the look of confusion upon his face.
Her face burned in embarrassment as she recalled their intimate session in the lighthouse. It had been a drunken blur of lust and passion to Bulma, for she could not remember exactly how he felt against her... The thoughts trailed off as she looked up in his fierce and scowling face.
"Surprised?" He hissed cruelly, staring down at her as though she were something he scraped from the bottom of his boot. "What, didn't think I'd return after our little fuck in the lighthouse? Poor little woman, did you honestly think I was going to let your carcass off the hook?"
He continued speaking, noticing the look of utter pain on Bulma's face and mistaking it for regret for ever letting him touch her. "My, my, is the little whore upset? Well, I'm sure I could dispel that if you allowed me the use of your hideous body one more time? Oh but wait, I'm sure you could just go whoring off to your weakling mate." Sarcasm dripped from every single syllable in his words. His voice held back the pain of rejection she had placed upon him and he turned every word into a poisonous backlash.
Bulma pursed her lips and a new fountain of tears surged within her. "Stop." She whispered.
"Don't like the truth?" He asked in mock surprise. "Well, I certainly had a field day using your body. It is a shame that I didn't find you quite satisfying." Each new lie he wove, caused the wound in his heart to deepen.
He crouched down to the odd contraption she was seated in and painfully gripped her jaw. He didn't know what the hell she was seated in and personally didn't give a fuck. It was probably one of her inane inventions she had conjured out boredom.
As he grabbed her jaw, he forced her to look at him. "I have a low tolerance for sniveling bitches such as yourself. If you think you can get rid of me with your pathetic barbs then you, my little whore, are sorely mistaken."
He stood up but bent to whisper into her ear, "I'm your worst nightmare and I will make sure you pay for your pathetic tantrum in the lighthouse. No one insults the Saiyan Prince and gets away with it." He roughly pushed her cheek away, letting go. He watched her head snap to the side as though she had been slapped.
Bulma allowed one single tear to trickle down her cheek.
How could she have ever thought this monster of a man would have seen her more than a bed warmer?! Just because she had refused to be his sex toy, he was now lashing out at her?! She tried to muster up anger, but all she could fathom was hurt and pain unlike any other. He hadn't even asked her of her condition after the accident... He was not being very perceptive, she thought wryly.
Vegeta sneered as he saw the tear roll down her cheeks. "Here come the water-works!" He growled in sadistic amusement, "Damn woman, with the amount of crying you do, your tears could fill up an entire lake!" He laughed cruelly at his own joke. He seemed cold on the outside, but his feelings were completely opposite on the inside.
Her face still held the cuts and bruises from her accident and he secretly wanted to ask how she felt, but he refused to admit the odd and caring feelings that were occurring in his soul and channeled them into an unbridled rage.
"Bulma dear!" Her mother's voice sang out.
Bulma sighed in relief. At least she wouldn't have to answer to the Prince's snide and hurtful comments. She looked around to see that Vegeta had retreated to corner of the kitchen.
She wiped away the trail of tears from her cheek and swiveled her wheelchair to face her mother, who was standing prominently in the doorway that led to her prized garden. Her mother looked seemingly comfortable in her blue overalls and straw hat.
"Oh Vegeta dear!" Mrs. Briefs cried upon seeing the prince standing in the corner of the dimly lit kitchen. "Are you both hungry? I could whip you up a quick dinner?" She crooned, directing the question hto both Bulma and Vegeta.
Bulma smiled falsely, "No thanks Momma," she said tightly. "I'm not very hungry right now." Without further talk, she wheeled herself out of the room as quickly as her chair would allow. Away from Vegeta.
Mrs. Briefs sadly watched her daughter wheel herself out of the kitchen. Trying to brighten her spirits, she turned to the sour looking man in the corner. "Come on dear, don't tell me you're not hungry as well?! If I know you, I'd say you're famished!" She motioned him to take a seat at the breakfast table.
Vegeta grunted, sneering but obliged as he sat quietly at the table. He had always been discomforted by the blonde woman's presence, but he as long as his hunger was fulfilled then it really didn't matter. He had no intention of conversing with the twit anyway.
Mrs. Briefs began bustling around the kitchen, she moved to the fridge and retrieved a pitcher of juice. She carefully placed it on the breakfast table in front of the thoughtful. She caught the worried expression on his face and misunderstood it.
"Don't worry dear," she commented as she gently patted his shoulder. The confusion on his face was lost upon her as she went to retrieve a large glass to pour the juice in.
"What should I be worried about?" He demanded, sneering at the bubbly woman as she returned with a tall glass in her hand.
"About Bulma's paralysis." She said, appearing unconcerned. "I'm sure she'll be fine."
"Paralysis... What is this paralysis?"
"You mean you don't know?" The blonde-haired woman gaped at the scowling man. She slowly placed the glass on the table, "Surely you noticed her in that chair?" She murmured, apparently confused as to how the man could not have noticed.
"Of course I did," he snapped waspishly. "What does the chair have to do with a paralysis?" He frowned, not wanting to indulge in a conversation with the perky woman, but curiosity was getting the better of him.
Mrs. Briefs' face fell into a blank state as she stared at the ignorant Saiyan. "Dear, that chair is her only means of getting around."
Now he was even more confused. "Why?" He was still deaf to what the woman was soliciting.
"Because..." She continued sadly, "Bulma has lost the use of her legs. The accident has left her unable to walk."
Vegeta froze.
A pounding in his head grew to such great proportions, that he suddenly felt claustrophobic in the large kitchen with the babbling woman. The woman... His woman, was unable to walk?! He wondered why she hadn't told him. He snorted bitterly as he remembered that he hadn't given her a chance to talk.
Between his insults and barbs, he had noticed her in the wheeled chair but never thought twice about it, dismissing it as one of her strange inventions. The full weight of truth was placed upon him and he clenched his jaw in anger... Most of which was directed towards himself for his lack of awareness.
He had simply added insult to injury... Exactly what she had done in the lighthouse. But he truly wondered if she had deserved his backlash. He wasn't so sure at present, but knew that he couldn't feel sorry for her.
Such a strong willed woman as herself would never want pity... So why did he feel the sudden urge to dash after her and demand an explanation, as always.
A heavy sigh left Mrs. Briefs' mouth and she slumped to the table. "I know you kids think I'm a doddering old woman in my fifties lusting after handsome playboys," she paused to giggle, "But if it's one thing I do know, it's how my daughter is feeling. I can see it in her eyes..."
Mrs. Briefs shook her head sadly, "The poor dear feels trapped. She feels like she's being a burden to everyone and trying avoid meeting up with anyone and everyone, just so that she can hide her true feelings."
He frowned, but remained silent.
"My poor baby doll feels helpless in that damned chair!" She spoke vehemently. Her voice dwindled to a mere whisper, "But there's nothing I can do to help here. She confined to that chair and there's nothing I can do to help her..." She trailed off, lost in her thoughts.
Her mind snapped to attention as the phone began to ring. Her vivacious demeanor returned and she flashed Vegeta a bright smile, that was bordering into insanity. "I'll just get that. Dinner will be done in a moment, ok?" She stood and tottered towards the phone.
Vegeta scowled in disgust at the woman.
Shaking his head, he stood abruptly and began to search for Bulma's ki signature. To his astonishment, he found her amidst Mrs. Briefs' jungle of flowers in the garden. Her ki had been severed in half from what minuscule ki it had been before.
His lips curled in thought as he realized her ki had been cut in half because a part of her had withered away and died... Her legs.
He growled, refusing to feel sorry for her.
Without a second thought, he purposely exited the kitchen, heading towards the garden and Bulma's severed ki. His anger had grown to a new height, but he didn't know why he was truly so angered.
Perhaps it was because he felt as though the blue-haired woman in the garden held too much power over him. Everything she did drove him crazy with desire, but her mere volatile attitude contributed to his burning anger.
He was disgusted with the sick feelings that blazed within him every time she was near by. He thought that he would have been able to squash his desire for her by his anger and it had been working... Until he had set eyes upon her in the kitchen in her wheelchair.
And now she was completely paralyzed! She had lost the use of her legs because of the accident that may well have happened because of HIM!
It was all his fault, and yet he refused to take the blame.
Standing in the back garden, his nose picked up the heavy scented fragrance of the vile flowers Bulma's mother had planted. He had almost gagged on the stench, but remained stony faced as he searched out her ki in the twist and turns of the garden.
It was practically like a maze! He wondered how Bulma's idiotic mother had never become lost in the maze-like jungle of flowers.
Clenching his fists, his jaw tightened and lips pulled in a ferocious scowl, he entered the maze like-garden all the while following the woman's severed ki.
It was time to rid himself of his obsession.
~*~